


Labelled

by JB Harris (LizAna)



Series: The Janto Files [13]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, fetishes galore, honestly they're just as bad as one another, ianto's stationery fetish, jack's labelling fetish, janto, the torchwood logo saga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 19:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizAna/pseuds/JB%20Harris
Summary: Jack's labelling fetish is out of control and when he pilfers some of Ianto's stationery from the tourist office to plaster it with the Torchwood logo, Ianto decides something needs to be done. That something features a temporary tattoo on his arse of the Torchwood logo, lickable ink and a lesson that Jack won't soon forget.





	Labelled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boredsince1894](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredsince1894/gifts).



> This is all came about from a short discussion/post on Tumblr (by iant0jones) about Jack's labelling fetish and Ianto deciding to get a temporary tattoo on his arse of the Torchwood logo... the final cherry on the sundae being that the ink was edible. Then this fic happened...  
> *Warning* this is the most explicit fic I've written so if you're not comfortable reading sex scenes, there's a whole section you'll want to skip.

It was the hole puncher that was the final straw. The red hole puncher he’d bought from his favourite office supply place (which incidentally had a matching red stapler and matching red—well, anyway, he now had a lot of red stationary) and purposefully left behind the desk in the tourist kiosk to avoid succumbing to the fate of Jack’s labelling fetish. Honestly, there was no other stationary in the entire hub he could keep up on the tourist desk that didn’t have Torchwood stamped on it. So maybe everyone in Cardiff knew to point toward the bay and the Plass in particular when someone asked about Torchwood, but having clearly labelled stationery sitting around next to the pamphlets on Cardiff Castle was a level of carelessness he didn’t aspire to.

When his red hole puncher went missing, he knew right away where he'd find it, he just didn’t want to believe it. Abandoning the papers he’d needed to punch holes in to snap into the folder for filing later, he sighed in resignation as he took himself down to the hub.

“Oi, ‘bout time you turned up,” Owen called from where he was sitting at his desk with his legs up, looking over a file from the 1960’s Ianto had found for him in the archives that morning—something about an alien plant that secreted some substance Owen was hoping might make for a non-addictive pain killer. “Gwen’s voice is starting to grate on me, must be time for another coffee.”

“You can shut it, Owen!” Gwen tossed a wadded-up piece of paper at him, but Ianto intercepted it one-handed as he passed between them and smoothly dropped it into a nearby wastepaper basket.  

“Coffee will have to wait,” he replied in a clipped tone, gaze fixed determinedly on Jack’s office as he steeled himself. Jack’s charm and those bloody pheromones weren’t going to get him out of this one. If he really was responsible for the missing hole puncher, that was. He supposed it only fair he give Jack a tiny benefit of doubt, but he wouldn’t stake his coffee on it.  

“Uh-oh,” Owen said with a laugh. “What’s Harkness gone and done now? Left his socks on while you were shagging?”

He cut Owen an unimpressed look but was so focused on his mission that he didn’t bother coming up with a reply as he continued on.

“Owen,” he heard Tosh admonish as he reached Jack’s doorway. “You don’t have to be so crass about them you know. Some of us think it’s sweet.”

“Those two shagging is not sweet,” Owen grumbled a reply. “It’s bloody inconvenient, is what it is. I mean what happens when—”

Ianto closed the door firmly on whatever complaint Owen was about to launch into and the slowly turned to face Jack, who had looked up from his paperwork at the sound of the door clicking into place. He took one look at Ianto’s face and concern immediately came over his features.

“Uh-oh. What happened? Did Owen poison himself with that plant he’s been studying? I told him—”

“No,” he said succinctly, cutting Jack off before he could start in with a rant. Though, truth be told, a little minor poisoning might be exactly what Owen needed. Certainly couldn’t make his disposition any worse.

“Jack.” The consonants of his name came out sharper like they always did when he was annoyed at their boss. “The new hole puncher I bought for the tourist office a few weeks back is missing.”

Jack schooled his features as he clasped his hands on his desk, but Ianto could see it -- the tiniest glimmer of guilt in those gorgeous blue eyes.

“Oh? Well, maybe you left it—”

“Jack.” He hiked his hands on his hips and settled a stern glare on him. If he wasn’t mistaken, a hint of panic had edged into Jack’s expression.

“Maybe one of the others—”

Jack!”

“Ianto,” he returned, trying for innocence now.

“Where is it?”

Jack’s gaze darted to the right and down for only a split second, but it was long enough. Ianto marched over, grabbed the back of Jack’s chair and wheeled him away from the desk. However, Jack was on his feet in another moment and made a grab at his hips as he half bent over and pulled open the bottom draw to rifle through the contents.

“Ianto, can’t we just—”

The door to Jack’s office opened as Owen barged in. “Jack, I’ve compared the compounds and I really think— bloody sodding bollocks!”

Ianto glanced up to see Owen glaring at them and belatedly realised Jack was still holding his hips, standing behind him where he was bent over and exactly how that must have looked from where Owen was standing. Except he was too busy going spare over his hole puncher to care what the doctor thought.

“If you’re going shag during office hours, at least put a bloody sock on the door or something. The rest of us don’t need the visuals. The audio is more than enough.”

Owen turned on his heel with a disgusted look and slammed the door resolutely behind himself. Ianto ignored him as he slapped shut the bottom draw and pulled open the middle draw.

“Ianto, just hold up a—”

His fingers touched something smooth in the very back of the draw and he pulled it out.

“Ah-ha!” He held up the red item in question and dodged Jack’s groping hands when he made a grab for it. Keeping Jack at arm’s length, he turned it over, a very familiar black hollow-hexagon T on the top with the word _Torchwood_ centred underneath.

He flipped it over and brandished it in Jack’s line of sight. “What is this?”

Jack at least had the good grace to look sheepish. “Come on, Ianto. It looks so good against the shiny red—”

“You have a serious problem. You know that, right?”

Jack crossed his arms and pouted at him. “I don’t tease you about your Bond addiction.”

“My Bond addiction doesn’t end with defenceless office equipment getting tramp-stamped.”

Jack’s lips quirked. “Tramp-stamp, huh? You’re giving me ideas, Ianto. Sexy ideas about a certain logo and your ass.”

“Don’t even say it.” He pointed an admonishing finger at Jack, who simply grinned back at him, a hint of intimate heat to the expression.

Jack sidled closer and on his next inhale, Ianto got hit with a lungful of those damned pheromones, making his pulse pick up speed. He tensed every muscle in his body against the now-inherent and nearly overwhelming urge to press himself up against Jack and breathe that delicious scent directly off his skin like he’d done so many times before.

“Don’t say how much I want to take my labeller and—”

“Nope.” He expertly dodged Jack and hurried toward the door. Whatever Jack was going to say, he didn’t want to hear it because going off their track record, there was every chance Jack would somehow convince him it was a very good idea and next thing he knew he’d be naked and—

Honestly, he didn’t think his dignity could stand in the face of Jack labelling his ass with the Torchwood logo. Of course, it wasn’t like he was innocent in any of their escapades. There’d been just as many times he’d come up with an idea and convinced Jack it would be fun. His stationery, however, was not something to be trifled with. Jack had been quite aware of that fact and helped himself to it anyway. High time someone taught the captain a lesson…

He’d already stepped out of the office doorway, but he back-peddled a few steps to poke his head through the door where Jack was leaning against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, already well on the way to brooding.

“Oh, and sir?”

Jack looked up at him, an eyebrow arching slightly.

“Just make a note that I will be seeking recompense for this.”

Jack sent him an exasperated look. “Since you handle all the accounts, I’ll forward you the memo.”

“I didn’t mean _that_ kind of recompense.”

Surprise flitted across Jack’s face, but he hurried off before Jack could say anything. He wasn’t yet sure how he was going to get the irreverent captain back for this, but he’d think of something fitting. Some way to make sure Jack thought twice about touching his stationery ever again.

*******

It was later that afternoon when he was still fuming about no longer having a hole puncher he could keep in the tourist office and replaying the conversation with Jack over in his mind that an idea started forming.

He was almost dreading everyone going home that evening. He could just imagine going down to find Jack waiting naked in his office, brandishing the sodding labeller, possibly already having labelled himself in several strategic areas. He nearly laughed out loud at the thought, since surely some of that ink wouldn’t be safe to put directly on the skin. Who knew what kind of chemicals they used?

Of course, maybe Jack’s idea would be fun if the labels were lickable. He paused, staring off into space as he imagined tracing his tongue all over Jack’s body. A bolt of heat flashed though him, making his trousers rather tight all of a sudden. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss Jack’s suggestion.

That was when notions started pulling together in his mind. Maybe he could have his fun and teach Jack to think twice before pilfering his tourist office stationery. He turned to his computer and started doing some research on temporary edible tattoo ink. Nothing like that existed—nothing that he could easily and quickly get his hands on, anyway. The closest thing he could find was body paint and _oh_ — They had coffee flavour. He found a small boutique shop not too far away from the Plass selling it and called them up to make sure they had some in stock before asking them to keep some aside for him.

He called down to the hub and Tosh picked up. He told her he wanted some fresh air, so he was going out to fetch their afternoon tea. She sounded distracted as she hummed an agreement.

The shop turned out to be a kind of tasteful sex toy place that Jack would have just loved. He made a mental note to bring him back one day; several toys caught his eye that he definitely wanted to try. But today he had only one thing in mind. It was a little expensive, but definitely going to be worth it.

Back at the hub, once he’d handed out coffees and pastries and pointedly ignored Jack’s suggestive winks and come-hither smile, he discreetly gathered some supplies and went back up to the tourist office. The rest of the afternoon was spent making a stencil he was happy with—considering the positioning of where he wanted to paint himself, he couldn’t see any other way of doing it and making sure it was perfect like every other label Jack had plastered around the hub. He certainly wasn’t about to ask anyone else to put a temporary lickable tattoo on his arse of the Torchwood logo.

That night, he managed to leave when the others did without Jack noticing until he was stepping into the door of his flat. And when Jack called, he mumbled something about a headache and being very tired and the marathon sex they’d had the night before in Jack’s bunker. Jack had managed to sound disappointed and suspicious, but didn’t push him on the matter.

After a nice long shower—which maybe could have been nicer with Jack in it—he set himself up in the kitchen and tested his stencil with the body paint on his arm. He was worried it would dry flaky or rub off, which would put a serious dent in his plan. But the stencil worked perfectly and when the logo dried, it was close enough to other types of temporary tattoos. He vigorously rubbed a thumb over it and it smudged a little, but he didn’t think that was too much of a problem in the scheme of things. Now for the next test—taste. Mostly because he was curious. After a couple of licks, he found it had a fairly pleasant sweet-coffee taste. Nowhere near as good as the real stuff, but for this purpose, it would be perfect.

*******

Ianto was struggling to keep his usual impassive mask in place the following morning as he served the team their first round of coffees for the day. Jack had been unusually reserved when he’d arrived that morning, asking how he’d slept and making only the mildest attempt at suggestive flirting. He was possibly worried Ianto’s recompense for the hole puncher was going to be something along the lines of withholding sex. If only he knew. What Ianto planned was the complete opposite.

All he needed was a reasonable excuse to take his trousers off, which probably wasn’t going to happen until the evening after the rest of the team had gone home. Still, he’d carefully painted on the Torchwood logo after his shower that morning and had brought everything with him in case he needed to touch it up over the day.

However, it seemed luck was on his side. Not long after the first cups of coffee disappeared, a call come through about an elderly person going missing over night under mysterious circumstances that Owen and Gwen went off to investigate. Not long after that, there was a minor rift alert. Non-organic, most likely space junk, no bigger than a fist. Tosh told Jack she was happy enough to go fetch it by herself. She’d barely walked out the door when a new alert came up—this time a weevil sighting.

“Ianto!”

Even as Jack yelled his name, he was already gathering the keys to his Audi—Gwen and Owen had taken the SUV—and going over to grab Jack’s coat as he slid his gun in it’s holster onto his belt. They drove a few blocks to what had recently become a weevil hot spot where a large storm water pipe emptied out into the bay. Nearby, old factories were being demolished, soon to be rebuilt into residential buildings.

It’d rained overnight and water was running at a clip out of the huge pipe. Jack leapt lightly over the gushing water and continued over a rocky embankment, can of weevil spray clenched in his fist. Ianto followed, not quite as confident in his dress shoes as he negotiated the uneven ground. At the top of the embankment, the weevil stood half-hidden in the broken doorway of a partially collapsed building. Jack motioned for Ianto to go wide and he nodded to let Jack know he understood before hurrying to comply. He brought the weevil spray half-up, not wanting the weevil to think he was immediately going to attack, but needing to be ready as he edged forward. Jack jogged away and disappeared through a broken window, but the weevil didn’t notice because it was fully focused on him.

It let out a low growl of warning and Ianto paused, debating if he was close enough for Jack’s ploy of sneaking up behind the creature to work. However, the weevil suddenly came out of the doorway, titling it’s face in the air as if it were smelling something. It took a few more cautious steps, huffing and snorting, and Ianto realised with a start he was standing downwind from the weevil, so it was probably smelling him. As unsettling as that was, he didn’t let it worry him since weevils tended to eat—well, they lived in the sewer so he honestly didn’t like to think about it.

Except the weevil loped forward a few more steps and Ianto started backing up, belatedly remembering the coffee flavoured body paint. _Oh no_. Surely not—

The weevil launched into a run, heading straight for him.

“Jack!”

He debated standing his ground for about half a second, but in the face of a weevil charging directly at him, he suddenly didn’t trust the spray to save him before the creature decided to make a snack out of his lower extremities.

Spinning on his heel he took off, calculating that if he headed toward the storm water pipe, they at least wouldn't have as far to carry the weevil to the boot of his car. As he reached the edge of the embankment and started skidding down it, he heard Jack swearing a string of curses as he came after them. At the bottom of the slope, Ianto was going too fast to take a coordinated jump over the water gushing out and went straight through it, plunging in up to his knees. He sloshed through and gained some higher ground, but a glance over his shoulder revealed the weevil was closing in on him and Jack was still trying to catch up.

He spied a pile of building rubbish and cut toward it, yanking out a length of metal piping. By the time he turned, the weevil was practically on top of him and it was instinct alone that made him swing the pipe, connecting solidly into the side of the weevil’s head. It stunned the creature long enough for Jack to leap forward the last few feet and hit it with the spray. Together they managed to get the black bag over its head and then inject it with a more heavy-duty sedative for the car trip back to the hub.

When Jack let the creature drop to the ground, Ianto bent forward and put his hand on his knees, the material of his trousers sticking wetly.

“Ruined your suit.” Jack reached out and tugged on the bottom of his suit jacket that was liberally covered with splashes of storm water.

“Probably preferable to being a weevil’s chew toy.” He straightened, grimacing at the squelching going on in his shoes.

“This one really had it in for you, huh?” Jack sent him a smile. “Never seen one so determined to chase someone down. Of course, you _do_ look delicious. Or you did. Now you look a little waterlogged.”

He sent Jack a flat look, but the effect was probably ruined by the way he’d started shivering. “You mind if we get back before I catch my death?”

“Yeah, you definitely need a hot shower. And someone to scrub all those hard to reach places.”

Jack was grinning happily as he bent down and hauled the weevil into a fireman’s carry. And when he set off toward Ianto’s Audi, there was practically a spring in his step, despite the weight he was carrying. Ianto wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep warm, but fighting off his own smile. Normally getting chased by a weevil and ruining one of his suits would have put him in a terrible mood. Today, however, he was counting himself lucky.

Back at the hub, Ianto helped Jack secure the weevil in the vaults and then simply nodded at Jack’s suggestive smirk about it being time to get out of his wet clothes. None of the others were back yet, and Ianto had to stop himself from rubbing his hands with glee. He managed to contain himself, however, keeping a straight face as they went down to Jack's bunker and through to the small ensuite bathroom.

Jack immediately started the shower, sending steam rolling through the room, while Ianto began methodically disrobing, taking his clothes off one at a time, purposefully keeping his back to Jack, practically able to feel Jack’s gaze taking in his every movement.

He left his pants until last, and stole a peek over his shoulder to make sure he had Jack’s attention before he casually shucked them as well.

Jack made a sudden strangled noise behind him, and he paused, enjoying the moment, imagining the look on Jack’s face, making sure Jack got a good long look at his bare arse.

Finally, though, he had to turn around.

“Something wrong?” he asked innocently, stepping toward the shower.

“Ianto Jones!” Jack practically yelled, all but jumping on him and then forcing him to spin around. Ianto let Jack manhandle him—for the time being. He’d turn the tables shortly enough, however.

“What is _that_?” Jack demanded, almost sounding breathless now. Jack’s hand ran a path across his lower back and then down, fingers skimming near-reverently over the curve leading to the tops of his thighs.

“What is what?” he returned, deciding to play dumb. It was hard though, staying coherent with Jack’s hands all over him.

“On your ass? Your very nice ass that now has Torchwood on it?”

“Oh, that. Mishap with the labeller.” He sent Jack a benign smile and started to turn toward the shower again.

“Ianto.” Jack practically growled his name, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Yes?” He edged backward, but Jack pursued him until he was trapped against the sink.

“I have a _very_ good imagination, but even I can’t come up with a way that a mishap with the labeller could have resulted in this. And more importantly, why are you having that kind of fun without me?”

“Well, you are already completely out of control when it comes to labelling everything in the hub, so I didn’t think you needed the encouragement.”

“Oh,” Jack replied, drawing out the word and shifting back a little. “This is about the hole puncher, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, simply arched an eyebrow.

Jack’s gaze turned calculating. “I just can’t figure out how you labelling your ass is my punishment.”

“Maybe you should take a closer look.” He slowly turned around and leaned against the sink. Jack took a sharp breath before dropping down to kneel. His fingers traced over the image and Ianto bit back a moan at the simple contact. Wouldn’t do to let Jack know how much he was affecting him if he wanted to keeping the upper hand.

“This isn’t from the labeller,” Jack said sounding mystified. “This is—”

He felt more than heard Jack inhaling against his flesh and this time he couldn’t stop a small groan escaping.

“Coffee?” Jack’s hands clamped tightly on his hips, but before he could do anything else, Ianto pulled out of Jack’s hold and spun around.

“Not so fast.” He reached down and gripped a handful of Jack’s hair, still on his knees. However, this left Jack temptingly close to his already achingly hard erection. He shifted back a little, needing Jack’s attention elsewhere. “We need to talk.”

“Ianto, you’ve got the Torchwood logo on your ass in coffee flavoured body paint and you want to _talk_?” Jack sounded like he didn’t know whether to be highly amused or severely annoyed.

“Yes, while I’ve got your undivided attention, we need to come to some sort of agreement.”

Jack’s hands slid up the backs of his thighs. “After—”

There was a definite note of desperate pleading in Jack’s voice and Ianto knew he had the captain right where he wanted him.

“No, Jack. Now.”

Jack huffed, brow creasing as he stared up at him. “Fine.”

“The labeller.” Ianto tightened his hand a little in Jack’s hair, but it only made his blue eyes darken with lust.

“What about it?” Jack began leaning in, intention obvious, but Ianto used his grip to urge Jack to his feet.

“The labeller has to go.” He slid Jack’s braces off his shoulders.

“No,” Jack replied through a clenched jaw.

He gripped the seams of Jack’s shirt and gave a single, purposeful yank, sending buttons flying. Jack arched an eyebrow at him, a clear challenge in his gaze.

“If you want to keep it, then you need to prove to me you can show restraint.” He pulled the ruined shirt from Jack’s arms. He then drew off the white undershirt, taking a moment to revel in the feel of Jack’s smooth, tanned skin beneath his hands.

“Restraint?” Jack repeated, actually sounding a little uncertain.

“Yes, Jack.” He leaned in and laved his tongue up Jack’s neck to the underside of his jaw. “Prove to me that you’ve got some self-control and I’ll think about letting you keep it.”

Jack groaned, tilting his head back, pulling Ianto closer.

“How—how can I prove it?” Jack sounded a little too eager, and he had to catch Jack’s roving hands, wondering how long this little game would really last.

“No matter what, you’re not allowed to touch the Torchwood logo on my arse, not until I say so.”

This time when Jack groaned, it was nothing but pure torture. “Ianto Jones, you are diabolical.”

He sent Jack a satisfied smile. This was already so much more fun than he’d imagined.

“Do you agree?” he pressed, wanting to make sure the terms were clear.

“Yes. Yes. Just, _please_ , let me touch you.”

Ianto released his hold on Jack’s hands. “First, finishing undressing.”

Jack shifted back far enough to comply, shooting him a grin. “Oh, now you’re getting bossy. I always know I’m in for it when you use that officious tone.”

He stripped out of his trousers and boots with typical Jack Harkness efficiency and was then shifting back toward him. Ianto, however, side stepped him and in a few quick moves, had reversed their positions so Jack was the one against the sink.

“Turn around.” He told Jack, adding a stern look to the demand.

Jack obeyed, facing the mirror and bracing both hands against the edge of the sink. Ianto stepped up behind him and met his gaze in the mirror.

“I was quite annoyed with you yesterday.” He traced a finger down Jack’s spine, and he subtly arched into the touch.

“I know,” Jack replied, trying to look contrite and failing miserably.

“You know I can’t keep that hole puncher up in the tourist office any longer. And it matched so nicely with the rest of the stationery I bought.”

His trailing finger reached the base of Jack’s spine and he pressed back, silently begging for more.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Jack replied, voice uneven.

“That’s not the point.” He lifted his hand and Jack made a small noise of disappointment, until Ianto leaned forward, pressing his chest into Jack’s back as he snaked a hand around and closed his fist onto Jack’s cock, then he was gasping. “The point is, it was mine and I didn’t want the Torchwood logo plastered all over it like everything else in the hub.”

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” Jack flexed into his hand, but Ianto let him go, leaving him groaning in thwarted frustration. “Tease.”

Reaching over, he grabbed the lube out of the top draw and squeezed it directly onto Jack’s arse without any warning. He let out a surprised curse, no doubt because it’d been cold. Jack had got him the same way a number of times.

“I’m the tease?” he demanded as he drew two fingers through the lube and then down. “Do you really think I don’t know exactly why you took my hole puncher, Jack?”

He pressed one finger slowly in as he leaned down to brush his mouth against Jack’s ear.

“It’s because you wanted exactly this.”

Jack’s answer was a long, low groan as he added a second finger, slowly caressing him, knowing it drove Jack crazy when he took his time. Jack liked it hard and fast most of the time. Ianto had discovered the key to driving Jack completely out of his mind was a gradual, sustained assault on all his senses.

“Ianto, _please_.” Jack tried to push back on his hand, but Ianto gripped his hip and kept him in place.

“Self-control. Restraint. Remember?”

Jack dropped his head, moaning in defeat.

“That’s better.” He gentled his hold on Jack’s hip and added a third finger, watching the way Jack’s muscles tightened down through his back, clearly fighting every instinct to move, to thrust back, to take over.

When Jack’s hands started clenching on the edge of the sink, his knuckles going white, Ianto finally withdrew his fingers, but wantonly rubbed his cock through the lube covering Jack’s arse. Jack gasped, a shudder rippling down his spine, but still didn’t move, and Ianto was impressed.

Unhurriedly, he shifted, lining himself up and pausing, taking in the way Jack was breathing heavily, on edge, tense, waiting for him, practically vibrating beneath his hands. When Jack brought his head up and their gaze met in the mirror, Ianto slowly started pressing forward, clenching his teeth because _bloody hell_ it felt too good. Jack’s breath hitched as Ianto came up against him. One of Jack’s hands drifted downward, but Ianto reached forward and caught his wrist.

“No, you’re not allowed to come. Not yet.”

Jack looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t say a word. Instead he returned to clutching the edge of the sink as Ianto withdrew and plunged forward. He’d planned to maintain control for a while longer yet, but he could tell exactly how wound up Jack had gotten, and it only fed his own heightening desire.

He ran his hands over Jack’s body, loving every touch, loving every breath he gasped laced with Jack’s pheromones, loving the hot, damp slide of their bodies, loving every groan and senselessly uttered word he drew from Jack as he thrust, building up the speed and intensity until it all overwhelmed him. But it was everything he wanted, and he opened himself up to the flood, letting it inundate every sense until he didn’t know anything except Jack. 

He slammed into Jack on last time, yelling his name as he came so hard he couldn’t breathe for a long, perfect moment. As the tempest receded and he managed a strangled breath, he sunk forward onto Jack’s back.

It took him a few moments to get his brain functioning well enough to from words, and when it did, he also realised Jack still felt impossibly tense beneath him.

“Did you—?” he murmured lazily, fully expecting the answer to be yes.

“No,” Jack said in a tight voice. “You told me not to.”

He pulled back and let Jack turn around. When Jack was facing him, he leaned in and kissed him, almost tenderly. “Guess we need to do something about that.”

Jack gave a short nod, gaze intense. Ianto turned in Jack’s embrace, pressing himself back against him, enjoying the feel of Jack’s hard, heavy cock against his arse. But Jack was soon kissing his shoulder, then down his spine.

“Can I?” Jack’s breath was hot against his lower back and he shivered in anticipation.

“Yes,” he replied, voice hoarse.

Without warning, Jack’s tongue swiped over the spot he’d stencilled the logo, and both of them groaned.

“You’re going to give me this coffee flavoured body paint,” Jack told him between licks. “And I’m going to paint your entire body and spend all night licking it off.”

All he could think was _yes, god, yes,_ but words were getting lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth. Jack thoroughly cleaned off every speck of body paint—not that there’d been much, the logo hadn’t been that big after all. When he started kissing a path across his arse, Ianto pulled away from him, leaving Jack staring up at him in confusion. Ianto didn’t let him wonder, dropping down and tumbling him to the floor.

Jack gave a breathless laugh as Ianto landed on top of him, but it turned into a moan as Ianto took over kissing Jack—starting on his chest and methodically working his way down until he took Jack into his mouth, Jack so close to coming, Ianto could already taste it.

In no more than a few well practiced moves, Jack was moaning something obscene along with his name and then something that wasn’t even English. A surge of warm satisfaction rolled through him as he swallowed Jack down—when Jack forgot what language he was speaking, Ianto knew he’d succeeded in blowing his mind.

After, he kissed a light path back upward and then lowered himself to lie on Jack’s chest with his head under Jack’s chin. Jack wrapped both arms around him and hummed in contentment. For a few long minutes, they were silentl, and Ianto belatedly realised the shower had been running the entire time because Jack had turned it on earlier. He felt momentarily guilty about all the wasted water, but the small bathroom was pleasantly warm and steamy.

“So, do I get to keep my labeller?” Jack asked in a lazy voice.

He gave a quick laugh. “If you can restrain yourself from labelling any more of my tourist office stationery.”

“Truthfully, I don’t think I’m going to be able to look at anything with the logo on it the same way ever again. Not without remembering what it looks like on your perfect ass.”

“Then my job here is done,” he sighed, relaxing into Jack’s embrace even more.

A buzzing and a trilling noise started up somewhere beneath Jack’s clothes and they both groaned at the interruption. Jack reached out, groping through the hastily discarded pile of garments until he found his mobile.

“Owen,” he grumbled, before answering the call. “What is it?”

From where he was still resting on Jack’s chest, he could just hear the annoyed tones of Owen’s words, but not what he was saying.

“Weevil hunting with Ianto,” Jack replied, sending him a conspiratorial smile. Except the smile quickly slipped off his face. “And why exactly did you have Tosh trace my phone?”

Whatever Owen replied with made Jack roll his eyes. “Yes, alright. We’ll be up in a minute. First, we have to get dressed. We seem to be having a naked issue down here.”

This time, Ianto had no trouble hearing Owen’s colourful response, which left Jack laughing. He tossed his phone back into the pile of clothes and then settled his arms back around Ianto.

“We should get back up there. It is the middle of the day, after all.”

Jack nuzzled his hair. “In a minute.”

Ianto sighed and let his eyes drift shut, not ready to face the world quite yet either. Except Jack suddenly tensed beneath him, startling him a little.

“Wait a minute,” Jack said, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “That weevil earlier.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, feeling his face getting hot.

Jack was obviously trying to contain a laugh, but Ianto could feel it trying to come up through his chest. “So, weevils like coffee flavoured body paint as well, huh? Have to keep that in mind next time we need to lure one somewhere.”

“As long as it’s not on me, I don’t care,” he replied, wondering how in the world they were going to explain that one to the team if Jack ever actually decided to use it.

“Still, I was right though,” Jack said, sounding smug. “That weevil wanted you because you, Ianto Jones, are delicious, body paint or not.”

“Delicious, but in dire need of a new hole puncher,” Ianto told him, ignoring the way his pulse pounded at Jack’s words.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to go shopping for stationery tomorrow.” Jack’s fingers traced teasingly up his spine. “And we both know how much you enjoy shopping for stationery.”

He lifted his head to stare down into Jack’s blue eyes. “I might even let you label some of it.”

Jack grinned happily at him. “First the stationery, then I get to label _you_.”

He rolled his eyes, even his heart skipped a beat. “There’s no hope for you and this labelling fetish, is there?”

Jack leaned up to kiss him. “Not even a little.”


End file.
